Page 64 of Twins for the Enemy

He’s got Farah’s eyes—same hazel-green—but where hers are wild and full of life, his are just… dim. Like hospital walls.

“If you knew her so well, you’d know that letting her throw her life away for you is a cruelty that should never be forgiven,” I take a breath.

“My whole life, I believed the world was built to crush you. That the only way to survive it was to get strong enough to push back. My parents were addicts. I bounced through foster homes. My sister died in a senseless tragedy. I bled, fought, and clawed through life for every inch of power I could get. And then I met Farah.”

I pause. The lump in my throat threatens to close off the rest.

“She didn’t carry a grudge. She didn’t fight the world. She didn’t try to cheat it. She just found beauty wherever it could be found. A deer in my backyard. A sprained ankle and a climbing wall. A locked door that she picked just to prove she could.”

I glance at him.

“She’ll love anyone through their worst mistakes. You know that better than anyone. But so do I.”

He bows his head, looking down at his feet. His jaw moves slowly as he works through whatever storm’s brewing behind his eyes.

“I know,” he says quietly. “That’s why I believe she’ll survive. She’s different from us. She finds joy in all the places we don’t.”

A snake will bask in the world’s sunlight, but as soon as it gets dark, it’s nowhere to be seen. It may be a kindness to the world if I threw him out the window.

I take a deep breath. “I get why you started the fire. I understand how protectiveness curdles into something violent. Neal, Farah sees some part of you that was the brother who protected her from your father. Because she loves that part in you, it’s taken every speck of compassion in me to see you that way too. Under the lens, I understand you don’t want to go to prison—specifically because you believe one dayyou’ll turn back into that brother again too, and once you’re that man, you won’t be able to protect Farah if you’re in prison. But time isn’t going to stall for you. She’s terrified of being arrested now. This isn’t protecting her. You need to let her go.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. His fingers pinch at the bridge of his nose, but his movements are so careless that he’s almost holding his eyelids shut.

“Neal,” I say.

His shoulders slump, and he lowers his hand. His eyes are red, but for once, it’s not from the drugs.

“You love her,” he says.

I pause, but I can’t start lying now when her freedom is on the line. “Yes.”

“If I go… if I turn myself in, you’ll watch out for her.”

“I won’t let anything bad happen to her.”

I stand up. He watches me carefully, but he’s no longer getting ready to rear back to strike.

“Okay,” he allows. He offers me his hand. I shake it.

It’s surprisingly warm for a snake.

“I also need you to call Robert Dunn about the Amygdalai deal—make sure the acquisition’s still on track. And reach out to James Paisley about Quadrant Cloud. He hasn’t responded to the updated terms, and I need to know if I should start applying pressure,” I tell my assistant, Sophie Tomlinson. She’s already skimming her phone, typing each instruction as I speak. “Confirm that Calamandrei’s is still handling the lunches here, and check that Stephen’s fully prepared for the presentation. If he’s not completely confident, have Alison go over it with him. Also, send flowers to Paul for the birth of his child. Something cheerful but not loud. Include one of those luxury plush toys and a soft blanket.”

“Of course,” she says, glancing up briefly. “I didn’t realize you were close with Paul.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh.” She pauses, fingers hovering. “You’ve only ever sent flowers for first babies. This is… a very generous gesture.”

I stop in front of my desk, where my laptop pings with incoming emails. The idea of my employees having children feels different now that I’m going to be a father. The only difference is that the police—and the top four private investigators in Chicago—aren’t searching for the mothers of their children. Farah’s gotten good at disappearing. All that’s left of her is how vividly she still lives in my mind.

It’s only been two days, but I’ve barely slept. I’ve been glued to the search, and it already feels like weeks. I’d still be at it, but I needed to reset my brain. Lately, every neuron is screaming worst-case scenarios instead of offering strategies for finding her. I needed to shift out of panic mode and back into execution. The most effective solution was to return to work—where logic is my weapon, and my mind is what’s made me impossible to beat in this industry.

It’s helping. But now I need to contact Bandit.

Bandit’s a black hat hacker who once breached several major corporations—and came dangerously close to slipping into ours. He got cocky. That mistake let me trace him. In exchange for not turning him over to law enforcement, he offered me access to a few of his programs—one of which can scrape every photo and video uploaded to social media and identify people caught in the background.

If it ever got out that I’d used it, my reputation would take a major hit. I’d be labeled a stalker, dragged through a PR nightmare, and slapped with lawsuits that could cost millions.

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